Nothing but the Best

by Kristin Hardy

  "Sorry I missed our meeting this morning. Got some time now?"

  "Yeah, sure, come on in," he said briskly, focusing back in on business. "What do you need?"

  She walked to his client chair and sat, as smoothly and carelessly sultry as Lauren Bacal in one of her movies with Bogie. "I'm starting to pul together inventory for the Annex. I thought we should touch base."

  "You're the buyer."

  "This isn't exactly about clothing." She crossed her legs with a whisper of hosiery. They were long and lovely, and he had no business staring at them.

  But he did.

  Cil a smiled. "I've got some more information on the toys." She flicked a glance over her shoulder. "Maybe I should show you instead of tel ing you."

  She rose and circled behind his desk to lay a folder in front of him. "Here are my recommendations, based on feedback from an informal focus group."

  Looking at the list—and in some cases photos—of sex toys didn't turn him on. Having Cil a a foot away from him did. She kept her distance, didn't lean over him obviously, but somehow that made him al the more aware.

  Somehow, it made him want her al the more.

  "I've got to get some orders out today for what we're going to need going forward," she continued, "especial y for the grand opening."

  He'd come to the reluctant conclusion that she was right about the toys, so long as they presented them discreetly. They'd have to be careful about the selection, though. He picked up a pen. "I'd cut this, and this," he said briefly, ticking them off.

  "Oh, come on, you're taking out the best stuff."

  "Let's see how we make out with the basic selection and a couple of edgy items. If they're a success, we can take it further. Slow and gradual is the best way to go."

  She looked at him from under her lashes. "I'l remember that."

  He had a funny feeling she wasn't talking about merchandise.

  "Anyway," she continued, "we need to also make a decision on whether we're going to carry Cil a D. or not, because I've got to get the production house working on it."

  The lingerie. Of course. "So take a seat and let's decide." He caught her fleeting smile and realized he'd made a strategic error by letting her know she'd gotten to him. "So why did you start designing, anyway? Nobody at the meeting acted like they knew about it."

  "Not a lot of people do." She turned in front of the chair and sat. "It's something I've been doing on the side."

  "To keep yourself out of trouble?"

  "I never run from trouble." The wicked look she slanted at him shivered down to his toes. "I just couldn't find the kind of lingerie I wanted."

  "What kind is that?"

  "Something that's drop-dead sexy without being tacky. Hotter than Chantel e, classier than Frederick's of Hol ywood. Most designer lingerie is beautiful, but rarely sexy. That's the niche I want."

  "G-strings with class?"

  "If you like."

  He wasn't sure she needed lingerie to look drop-dead sexy, but he figured it probably wasn't appropriate to mention. He was a minimalist. When it came to lingerie, his vote would be nothing at al .

  "The Annex is the perfect launch point for the line," Cil a was saying.

  He dragged his attention back to the conversation. "That's great for the line, but how do we know it'l fit with the store as a whole?"

  Cil a gave him a bold stare. "Sex, remember? It'l fit with the store, trust me."

  "I want to look it over before we make a decision," he said final y. He knew, though he didn't say it, that Sam Danforth would be looking particularly hard at their decision to carry the lingerie. Rand wanted to be sure he made the right cal .

  He'd expected her to take offense. Instead she looked like a cat in front of a dish of cream. "I'd be happy to show you the whole line."

  "Fine. I'l look forward to that." Inwardly, he sighed with relief. "Are we done here?"

  Cil a gazed at him, eyes wide. "I thought you wanted to see it."

  "Just drop off the file to me."

  "I don't have any decent photos, and the sketches are al in New York with the manufacturers. Besides, you don't want to see my renderings," she said silkily. "You want to see the real thing. I've got some samples I can show you."

  He had the sudden sense that he'd stumbled into quicksand. Then again, he'd had that same sensation since he'd met Cil a. "You have them here?"

  She laughed. "Not here, here. Cil a D. is my gig, not Danforth business. We'l have to go to my Cil a D. office."

  "Where's that?"

  She rose. "At my house, of course."

  And Rand knew he was in big trouble.

  * * *

  "HOW'D YOU WIND UP HERE?" Rand asked as they came up the brick walk to Cil a's twenties Brentwood bungalow. "I'd have expected you to live in Westwood Vil age or somewhere." Somewhere hipper, more happening, he thought, as he started to fol ow her up the front steps.

  "There you go again, Rand, setting up expectations." She'd taken off her jacket once they'd left the office. With her hair tousled from the ride and the creamy silk camisole she'd worn underneath, she looked inviting and just a bit reckless.

  She unlocked the door and walked inside. Rand hesitated before entering. It was going to take some fancy footwork to look at her designs and get out without the two of them doing something they'd be sorry for, he knew that. Why hadn't he just told her to bring the box of lingerie in to the office?

  He snorted at himself. Yeah, sure. He could just imagine Sam Danforth walking in on that particular meeting. On the other hand…

  "Why don't you grab the box and we can just take it to the store and go through it?"

  Cil a turned and walked back toward him, not stopping until they were practical y nose to nose. "Why, Rand, a person would think you were afraid to be alone with me," she purred.

  "I'm just trying to be efficient."

  "And I don't believe you." She tossed her keys into a bowl that sat on the entryway table. "Anyway, we're here. Let's just do it. You can spare that much time, can't you?"

  Time, he had. Self-control was steadily decreasing in supply.

  Cil a set her purse down. "Can I get you something to drink?"

  "No, I'm fine, thanks."

  "Feel free to have a seat and I'l go get the goods."

  He was happier roaming, looking at the place that she cal ed home. The floors were polished hardwood, the wal s plastered, the colors surprisingly calming. The feeling was one of comfort rather than high style. It took him by surprise. He'd expected kil ing sophistication, not casual, even worn, chic. Perhaps after her high-energy days, Cil a Danforth needed a haven to relax in.

  It made him like her al the more.

  He walked through an arch into the dining room and its view out into the leafy backyard. Here, her love of color showed through in the confusion of hues from flowering shrubs and beds of pink, orange, red and purple blossoms jammed together in splashy confusion.

  A hot tub and pool provided an island of blue amid the greens and warm colors. They'd fooled around in the water at the resort, he remembered, and flashed back to holding her wet and naked against him, sliding his fingers into her heat.

  "Did I lose you?" Cil a cal ed.

  "Just checking out your backyard," he replied, turning toward the living room.

  And stopped dead.

  She stood framed in the arch, wearing a fire-engine red teddy, high heels, and nothing else.

  His mouth went dry. "I didn't realize this was going to be a fashion show," he blurted, feeling his cock slide against the fabric of his trousers as it twitched. Maybe a better man than he could have torn his eyes away from the slender lines of her body, the way the heels made her legs seem to end somewhere around her neck. Rand couldn't make himself do anything but stare for long minutes.

  Cil a's mouth curved. "You can't possibly get an idea of the way lingerie looks when it's on the hanger. If we were in New York, we could have arranged a model, but out here, we've just got to wing it," sh
e said with insincere regret, giving a model's turn. "I didn't think you'd mind. After al , it's not like you haven't seen me naked before."

  Water, Rand thought. He just needed to get a glass of water and a seat and he could get through this. He walked toward Cil a. She merely watched him approach until he stood right in front of her. "I take it this is style number one?"

  "I figured I'd start off with the easy stuff."

  Unable to help himself, Rand reached out and traced a fingertip down the red silk over her hip. "Nice," he commented, watching her nostrils flare as she sucked in a breath. "I'm going to get a drink and take a seat."

  "I can see how you might want to," she said, and turned to another archway, presumably to change.

  Rand searched for a glass in the kitchen. He wasn't even going to bother tel ing himself if he were smart he'd leave, because if he were smart, he'd never have come here. He was here because he wanted her, and he was wil ing to take big risks for it.

  He'd known it was coming al along, because the reality was there was no way the two of them were going to walk away from the chemistry they'd had, work or no work. He couldn't escape it, he couldn't hope to evade it. Al he could do was try to delay it, to do what was best for both of them.

  He wasn't sure he'd even manage that much.

  He shucked off his jacket and tie so that he could breathe. By the time she came out again, he'd found water and the couch and at least a fraction of his composure. He was as prepared as he was going to be, he figured. She couldn't have more than three or four more outfits to try on. He hoped.

  More than that and she'd have him begging on his knees.

  "Are you ready?" Cil a cal ed and walked through the archway.

  It was blue this time, a deep cobalt blue that didn't make it any less hot. It showed skin, a lot of it.

  And al thoughts of delaying anything disappeared.

  The garter belt gave her the look of a wanton, the G-string under it was an invitation to sin. The bustier she wore on top made her slight curves look bounteous.

  And stopped just shy of her nipples, which stood out as hard points. Desire thudded through him. He couldn't help staring at the dark circles of her areolas. He wanted his mouth on them, he needed to be inside her, feeling her clutch hot and tight around him.

  "What do you think?" Cil a asked, turning to give him the ful three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view.

  Rand wasn't sure coherent thought was in the program, especial y when al the blood was pooled in his crotch.

  She looked like a naughty schoolgirl, amused with her own daring. She looked like a temptress accustomed to making strong men weak. She looked like a woman of flesh and blood and unapologetic appetites. And al he could do was want her.

  "Surely this isn't too over the top for the Annex," Cil a said, walking toward him. "Al women want to walk on the wild side now and again. This is just a classier version. Feel," she invited him, and leaned closer so that he could. "Pure silk, even the lace. Everything's soft and beautiful," she said, putting her hands on his to guide them over the boned silk sides of the bustier. "And sexy," she leaned in to whisper.

  He slid his fingers down over the smooth fabric, over the silky lace, and onto the warm softness of her bare skin. She caught her breath. He felt her shiver, and for a moment she swayed. Then she drew away.

  "I take it this one passes muster." She swal owed. "So that means the hot and the hotter versions work. Let's see how you do with hottest." She turned away, leaving him on the couch.

  The minutes ticked by and Rand sat, waiting for the throbbing of the blood in his head and his cock to lessen. He seized the glass of water and drank, but his throat remained dry. The room suddenly felt twenty degrees warmer than it had earlier. He started to unbutton his sleeve.

  "Let me help you with that," Cil a said. He looked up to see her in the archway. His first thought was that her label of "hottest" didn't real y fit because she wore only a black silk kimono-style robe along with stockings and black stilettos.

  She walked toward him, unbelting the robe, and only then did he realize that underneath the robe lay black silk. Barely.

  His cock turned to granite.

  He'd always thought that the adage that a little clothing was sexier than none was horse puckey. As far as he was concerned, the bare female body was as sensual as it got.

  Time to reconsider, he thought feverishly.

  The scraps of black silk were designed to frame, not provide a barrier. They didn't make even a pretense at modesty, just drew attention to themselves and the body beneath. Her breasts were the first things he noticed, outlined in a cupless bra that mostly consisted of a few strips of lace. The thong was split down the center, he saw as she walked. Desire flushed her face and darkened her eyes.

  He ached to touch her.

  Cil a stopped in front of him and reached out for his cuff. He leaned forward to touch her with the other hand, smoothing his palm down her silky thigh. "It's hard for me to get to these buttons," she said, and moved in to straddle him on the couch.

  Her legs were warm against his as she shrugged the silk of her robe back off her shoulders. Now, she managed to unfasten the buttons and rol up first one sleeve, then the other. "That doesn't seem like enough, does it?" she murmured. "Maybe we should just get you out of this shirt altogether."

  * * *

  THOSE HANDS, those hands, curved around her waist as she worked to open his shirt, skimming her ribs, the fragile skin on the outside of her breasts where it was framed by mere ribbons of silk. When he touched her nipples, Cil a gasped and pressed her breasts against him, forgetting for a moment her work. He didn't linger, though. Instead, he returned to her thighs, running over her hips before tracing back, working his way up the tender inside this time.

  Cil a pul ed open his shirt, tugged it out of his trousers impatiently. She wanted to be up against him. His undershirt provided only a tantalizing glimpse of the body that she knew lay beneath. She wanted more. She wanted it al .

  Rand ran his hands over her forearms and up under the loose sleeves of her robe, sensitizing the skin. He started at her neck and trailed his fingertips down to where the neckline of the robe hung down her back, then forward. Cil a shivered as he traced the line of her shoulders, her col arbone, closer and closer to her breasts. She held her breath, waiting for his touch to return there.

  Instead, he slipped his hands higher, around the nape of her neck and pul ed her down toward him to fuse their mouths together.

  And sent her spinning.

  A person could go mad with desire, mad with wanting when it was stretched out so far, she thought. The taste of his lips, the brush of his tongue as they devoured each other only served to tantalize, not satisfy. With a sound of impatience, Cil a pressed against him.

  Then his fingers slid up between her legs, where she was slick, wet and completely open.

  Cil a cried out against his mouth. She jolted, moaned as his clever, clever fingers slipped and swirled, beckoned and tormented. They slid over the hard nub of her clit, now dipping into her deep and sudden until she bucked with the sensation, until her body came with the bursting climax that stretched out and out until she should have been limp with it.

  But al she wanted was more.

  "Let me," she whispered, reaching for his belt. Instead, he caught her wrists.

  "No." His voice was ragged. "Not this time. I want to be in you, now." He moved to put her aside and rise.

  Cil a just laughed and reached into the pocket of her robe. "You can be," she breathed, her mouth dry with desire.

  He gave her a deep, hard kiss that only left her wanting, that left her hands shaking as she unzipped his pants and pul ed him out.

  "Let me," he ground out, taking the condom. His cock was deep, deep red and shuddering. She watched him suck in a breath through his teeth and close his eyes for a moment. When he opened his eyes they were dark pewter, his gaze was pinned to hers for an endless moment before he looked away to rol on the con
dom in one economical movement. He put his hands on her waist to position her, and locked eyes with her.

  And in one swift motion pul ed her down onto his cock.

  He thrust in, so deep and so hard that she cried out with the goodness of it. For a moment, al they could do was stay motionless, linked, letting the wave of initial sensation subside. Then Cil a gripped his shoulders and began to move. Rand's hands around her waist helped set her rhythm. It wouldn't last long, she knew. They'd spent too much time building to this moment, and orgasm hovered in the hypersensitivity of her body, in the hardness of his erection.

  Trembling on the edge, Cil a felt the surge, the build with each stroke. Then Rand cursed as he went past the point of no return. His cock thickened and his body clenched in orgasm.

  And Cil a's body answered with its own paroxysm of pleasure.

  9

  HE'D ALWAYS BEEN an early riser, even when he hadn't had a lot of sleep.

  Even when he'd spent the whole night turning a lover and himself inside out.

  Rand surfaced to consciousness to find himself in bed, naked, with a warm, soft, slumbering Cil a wrapped around him. Reality hit home, and with a vengeance. He couldn't cuss or punch a wal . Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head back into the pil ow.

  He'd always been competitive, driven to succeed. He'd always had a plan. More often than not, he'd gone outside the normal channels in search of success, but he classed those as calculated risks that had, on the whole, paid off.

  What he'd done the night before had been a risk, but not calculated in any sense of the word. What it had been, pure and simple, was a case of letting his wants get the better of his common sense.

  And he'd been out of junior high far too long to be letting his gonads run his life. Or so he'd thought. Sex with Cil a had been hot the first time. Round two had pretty wel blown the top of his head off. How did they both put that aside and go back to business as usual?

  How did they not?

  Right now, the question was what happened next. He squinted at the clock. Five-thirty in the morning, and he had an eight o'clock telecon. Wel , what happened first was a shower, then a trip home for a change of clothes, then a cab to the office, arriving early enough that no one, hopeful y, noticed his car had been there al night.